I can't help but cackle as I can all but hear the canon plot cracking apart. Pretty happy the idea the quests are serving canon got put down so fast.
Brockton Bay's Marvelous Mage
- Thread starter MetaBettaOmega
- Start date
...for every Gandalf, there is a Pippin.
Something Actually Being Done seems like it might cause Taylor to reevaluate her worldview. Also, if she ends up signing onto whatever team of supers Arcanum is (accidentally) putting together that's potentially the Wards down a cape and his nefarious band of do-badders (source; Brandish) putting the white hats even more at his mercy. He can't just keep getting away with this!
Also, with Hess gone for several days, what's the cause? Did the PRT keep investigating after all and when Shadow Stalker's misdeeds came to light Piggot threw the book at her? (I doubt it, but there's a chance)
- Location
- Usa
Glad to hear she won't be getting any grooming tips from the OC.
I always hate that shit.
Well Hess is screwed
I believe she's still under investigation/house arrest due to assaulting our mc when he tried to peacefully negotiate with Mush.
Based on Arcanum's reaction, I'm pretty sure Miss Militia is going to get a call about it. PRT leadership currently knows little to nothing about "the locker" because Sophia's handler has managed to keep it quiet, and possibly some interference from Calvert.
Short ver: MM and Piggot gonna blow a gasket when they get the real story, and Hess won't be seen in BB ever again.
Question is will orders from high have them play softball with Hess. I think Gandalf-lite may blow his own gasket if that happens, the PRT is already on pretty thin ice with him with their shady a/f behaviour.
Then again, we can always hope that Collateral Barbie Prime will realize that containment of this issue is already breached.
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Chapter Forty Four
New
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In the end, we decided that just sitting out by the sidewalk was not the best place for Taylor to tell her whole story. She was obviously struggling enough as it was, so going somewhere that she felt less exposed would make it a lot easier for her. Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly just show up at their house. Thankfully, rather than attract more attention to the situation, Reynolds suggested the police station. We could take separate routes to avoid further attention, and it would give Taylor a chance to get her thoughts in order.
By the time we reconvened at the police station, it was late afternoon. Taylor and her father had returned to their home so the young woman could change and have something to eat. I had sent Troy back to the Docks community and rode shotgun with Sargeant Reynolds to the station. It didn't take long for Sergeant Reynolds to find us a conference room to borrow, though, in the end, he didn't join us. Instead, Detective Sheryl, the woman who had been originally assigned to Taylor's case, took his place.
The detective was an older woman with grey and brown hair and a weathered, stern face. When Taylor arrived, her father was in tow. Sheryl sat her down at the head of the conference table with a cup of tea and recorder, ready to copy Taylor's story. The young woman still seemed confused, like she couldn't comprehend what was happening or was surprised that it still was.
It was a slow start, with the young woman stumbling and halting at the beginning of her story, which started a shockingly long time ago. I wasn't surprised to see her struggle, considering how closely she had kept all of this to her chest. Talking about it was the exact opposite of what she had been doing for two years, meaning she was struggling against her own instincts. Thankfully, once she got going, it became easier and easier until it was nearly a non-stop story deluge, the young woman seemingly unable to stop.
The young woman told a tale of suffering, bullying, and damn near torture. It was hellish, a near-perfect storm of betrayal, isolation, parental failure, and system corruption. It was almost like someone had fine-tuned her life to create the poor girl's perfect hell. Just about as disgusting as the bullying itself was the complete and utter failure on the part of the teachers and principal to do anything about it. It was obvious they had to know something, as the hell that Taylor was describing was too overt, too chronic for someone not to notice. This was a full-blown cover-up. It was just a matter of finding out how deep it went and why it existed in the first place.
I could see Taylor's father struggling to comprehend what his daughter had experienced, going through guilt, shame, anger, disgust, and quite a few combinations of each over and over again, each one painted clearly on his face.
Of course, while the what and how might have been disturbing and horrifying, the truly sad part was just how solvable all of it was, how... small it seemed to myself and, no doubt, Detective Sheryl. Taylor was a teenager, and as it was for many of them, their lives started and ended with the world they saw on a daily basis. To Taylor, it seemed like the entire world was against her because, as far as she could see, it was.
Never mind that a five-minute talk with any police officer in the city, any person above Principal Blackwell in Brockton Bay's school system, a lawyer, a reporter, hell, just about anyone with basic human decency and an internet connection, would have seen this whole situation blown open, just like what was happening now.
Instead, to her, it seemed like she was lost in a sheer-walled pit, surrounded by monsters and demons who, at best, ignored her suffering and, at worst, reveled in it.
Thankfully, that sense of complete isolation and walled-off nihilism was fixable. In fact, I could see it happening in her eyes, every time she said something new. She would look at us, waiting for us to accuse her and say that we didn't believe her, or to brush it off and insist it was her imagination, or that she was merely seeking attention. She had been trained to assume all authority figures or adults existed to keep her in her pit, and when we didn't, a little bit of life returned to her eyes.
The life in her eyes grew and grew, lighting up her features. A fire was smoldering inside of her, and as she desperately told her story, it burned brighter and brighter. Even as she was reduced to tears of relief, it shone through.
It was hope. Hope that this was finally it. That we would finally do something. That someone had seen her pit and was determined to get her out. As she held on to her father, both of them crying, both of them apologizing to each other, Detective Sheryl and I stepped out of the conference room to give them some time.
"So. Who do you think should I call?" I asked as the detective used an absolutely archaic coffee machine to make herself a drink. I desperately wanted one as well, but I couldn't drink with my mask on.
"Who could you call?"
"I could call Assault or Miss Militia directly, or I could ask one of them for a number for a more specific person… Or I could just call Director Piggot."
"Why do you have the Directors number?" The older woman started, only to shake her head and wave the question away. "Doesn't matter. Call Director Piggot."
"You want to go straight to the top?" I asked.
"This would all get to her hand eventually. It's too big of a deal not to." She explained. "At a minimum, this is someone using PRT resources to cover up a crime. Trust me, I've met her too. She would just resent the wasted effort."
"Fine, I'll contact the Director. What happens after that? We go into the PRT?" I asked. "Should I be there? Or should I-"
"You should absolutely be there," The woman said, spinning around to focus on me with a glare. "You ain't looking to pass that poor girl along, are you?"
I met her gaze rather easily, staring straight back at her.
"I'm going to let that accusation slide because, after everything that's happened, you have the right to be paranoid, Detective Sheryl," I said, shaking my head, my mask hiding my scowl. "But please refrain from assuming the worst of me, especially when I haven't done anything to deserve it."
She let out a long breath, running her hand through her white hair, but eventually nodding in understanding.
"I was asking if I should come because I wanted to make sure I didn't make the situation harder than it needed to be," I explained.
"Fine, fair," She said, taking a big sip of her coffee. "You should come with us because it gives us legitimacy. If it's just us… I'm worried they might brush it under the rug."
I frowned, chewing the inside of my cheek as I considered her words. My first few interactions with the PRT and the Protectorate had been… less than optimal. While things had settled down a bit, I couldn't deny that an attempt to sweep everything away before it could do any damage to their rep didn't feel very far-fetched. I didn't think they would do anything too crazy, but then again, anything but the truth was unacceptable.
"Then I'll be there," I said with a nod.
We waited another fifteen minutes before Danny eventually stepped out of the room, motioning for us to come back in. Once we were settled, I floated the idea of going directly to Director Piggot.
"I've met her before," I assured them. "She… isn't the easiest person to get along with, but she takes her job seriously. If someone is messing around with PRT resources she will be on them like white on rice in a snowstorm."
We discussed our options for a bit before I finally pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number that Director Piggot had used to contact me to negotiate healing while Panacea was taking her break. It rang once before a voice I didn't recognize answered.
"Hello, Office of PRT Director Piggot, how may I help you?"
"Hello, my name is Arcanum, and I'm trying to reach Director Piggot," I explained, the voice giving a slight start. "I talked to her previously at this number."
"Of course, Arcanum. One moment while I contact the Director."
Before I could say anything, hold music started to play, and I couldn't help but groan. We waited patiently for five minutes before the phone clicked over again, this time to the no-nonsense voice of Director Piggot.
"Arcanum, it is good to hear from you," She said. "My secretary said you wished to speak to me?"
"Yeah, I did. I think I might have uncovered something nefarious going on in the PRT," I said, the line going silent for a good thirty seconds. "Hello?"
"I'm finding myself less glad to hear from you, Arcanum," She responded. "But yes, I am here, Arcanum, waiting for you to elaborate."
I quickly gave the stern woman the rundown of the situation, giving her the names Taylor had told us, the circumstances, and other details we thought might be important. The entire time, Director Piggot was silent. When I was done, it took a full thirty seconds for her to finally respond.
"Arcanum, thank you for bringing this to my attention," she said, her voice tight, like she was barely holding her anger and frustration at bay. "You mentioned that Danny Hebert is with you. Could you hand him your phone?"
"Sure thing, here he is."
I said, pulling my phone away from my ear and holding it out to Taylor's father. For a moment, he looked at it, making no move to take it. Then, he seemed to settle up, reaching out and grabbing it.
We watched the one-sided conversation, which eventually ended with Danny passing me back my phone. The Director thanked me again before asking me to come in the following day so I could sit in with Danny and Taylor in some sort of meeting. I agreed but stopped her before she could end the conversation.
"Director Piggot, I don't want to end with anything as crude as a threat or ultimatum," I admitted, letting out a long breath. "But you need to understand that I will not be letting this go until Taylor and her Father are satisfied with the information and recompense. Please don't make me prove how far I am willing to go."
"We will see, Arcanum," She responded calmly. "I will see you tomorrow."
I folded my phone closed as the call end beep sounded, sliding it back into my pocket and leaning back in my chair.
"What did she say?" Detective Sheryl asked, leaning on the conference room table.
"She wanted time to investigate what we told her," Danny responded. "She seemed genuinely angry at the possibility and… I also got the feeling that she knew something. Like after a point, she wasn't surprised. She agreed to a meeting tomorrow afternoon, at four PM."
"She wanted me there as well," I added.
"...Did I do the right thing?" Danny asked after a long moment, looking at his daughter, who at this point looked tired and drained but… still somehow better than when I first met her. "My gut was telling me she was telling the truth, that they did just want to investigate, but what if they just wanted time to wipe everything clean?"
"Then they are going to have a bad time when I go to the press, explaining what I heard and what she said to me," I explained with a shrug. "Maybe the next Director will have some basic human decency. But I don't think that will be a problem. Director Piggot may be… shrewd, but she didn't come off as purposely corrupt or negligent."
"And I'm sure if she does try something, a mysterious copy of my report and investigation could show up on someone's doorstep, someone who could use it to show at the PRT did, in fact, take over the investigation," Detective Sheryl. "There are options."
"For now, I think it's time for you guys to get home. I think some quiet time and a nice meal will do both of you some good," I said with a smile, reaching out to pat Danny's shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you outside the PRT."
Danny nodded, looking down at his daughter, who also nodded in agreement. Detective Sheryl escorted the two of them from the building while I snuck out the back, making my way to the Docks community to pick up Troy. While I was there, I spent some time checking in on everyone, helping out around the place, and making sure the orchard was stable and charged.
I was making my way across the city, doing a half-assed patrol on my way to the forest and home, when Alya pulled in close.
"I was thinking about something," She said, her tone hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she should be telling me something.
"At least one of us was," I commented, shaking my head a moment later. "Sorry, I'm still in a funk from listening to Taylor. What is it?"
"It's about her, or, at least, something she said," She admitted, pausing for a second before continuing. "She explained that her more physical tormentor has been absent from school for some time now. Danny also commented that Director Piggot wasn't surprised by some of what she was hearing. Like she had expected more bad news."
"I don't think he worded it that way, but sure."
"William, what happened a few weeks ago?" She asked. "Having to do with an overly physically aggressive minor and the PRT?"
"Overly aggressive… Wait, Shadow Stalker?" I asked, my mind reeling a bit from the connection. "That's a hell of a stretch…"
I considered the idea, turning it over in my head a bit. There was no doubt that what little facts we had did fit, but only because we had so few. After all, the fewer points plotted, the easier it was to place them on a common plane. The chances of those particular coincidences lining up were beyond small… but damn if they didn't fit.
"I can see why you drew that conclusion, but I doubt it's actually true," I pointed out. "And even if it is, we can't do anything about it. There are some pretty serious restrictions and laws about Wards, specifically about their identities. Either way, we can't use it to our advantage."
"Maybe, but it doesn't answer a few questions," she pointed out.
"Yeah, and raise a dozen more," I added with a snort, guiding Troy through a shortcut through an alleyway. "Like I don't have enough already."
Despite having saved Taylor from being chased and having spent so much time with her afterward, my reward for the quest had not come through. Instead, it just hung there, open, like it was waiting for me to complete every aspect of it before deciding what it was worth.
I could only hope I would gain some understanding of how it worked when it finally made up its mind.
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In the end, we decided that just sitting out by the sidewalk was not the best place for Taylor to tell her whole story. She was obviously struggling enough as it was, so going somewhere that she felt less exposed would make it a lot easier for her. Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly just show up at their house. Thankfully, rather than attract more attention to the situation, Reynolds suggested the police station. We could take separate routes to avoid further attention, and it would give Taylor a chance to get her thoughts in order.
By the time we reconvened at the police station, it was late afternoon. Taylor and her father had returned to their home so the young woman could change and have something to eat. I had sent Troy back to the Docks community and rode shotgun with Sargeant Reynolds to the station. It didn't take long for Sergeant Reynolds to find us a conference room to borrow, though, in the end, he didn't join us. Instead, Detective Sheryl, the woman who had been originally assigned to Taylor's case, took his place.
The detective was an older woman with grey and brown hair and a weathered, stern face. When Taylor arrived, her father was in tow. Sheryl sat her down at the head of the conference table with a cup of tea and recorder, ready to copy Taylor's story. The young woman still seemed confused, like she couldn't comprehend what was happening or was surprised that it still was.
It was a slow start, with the young woman stumbling and halting at the beginning of her story, which started a shockingly long time ago. I wasn't surprised to see her struggle, considering how closely she had kept all of this to her chest. Talking about it was the exact opposite of what she had been doing for two years, meaning she was struggling against her own instincts. Thankfully, once she got going, it became easier and easier until it was nearly a non-stop story deluge, the young woman seemingly unable to stop.
The young woman told a tale of suffering, bullying, and damn near torture. It was hellish, a near-perfect storm of betrayal, isolation, parental failure, and system corruption. It was almost like someone had fine-tuned her life to create the poor girl's perfect hell. Just about as disgusting as the bullying itself was the complete and utter failure on the part of the teachers and principal to do anything about it. It was obvious they had to know something, as the hell that Taylor was describing was too overt, too chronic for someone not to notice. This was a full-blown cover-up. It was just a matter of finding out how deep it went and why it existed in the first place.
I could see Taylor's father struggling to comprehend what his daughter had experienced, going through guilt, shame, anger, disgust, and quite a few combinations of each over and over again, each one painted clearly on his face.
Of course, while the what and how might have been disturbing and horrifying, the truly sad part was just how solvable all of it was, how... small it seemed to myself and, no doubt, Detective Sheryl. Taylor was a teenager, and as it was for many of them, their lives started and ended with the world they saw on a daily basis. To Taylor, it seemed like the entire world was against her because, as far as she could see, it was.
Never mind that a five-minute talk with any police officer in the city, any person above Principal Blackwell in Brockton Bay's school system, a lawyer, a reporter, hell, just about anyone with basic human decency and an internet connection, would have seen this whole situation blown open, just like what was happening now.
Instead, to her, it seemed like she was lost in a sheer-walled pit, surrounded by monsters and demons who, at best, ignored her suffering and, at worst, reveled in it.
Thankfully, that sense of complete isolation and walled-off nihilism was fixable. In fact, I could see it happening in her eyes, every time she said something new. She would look at us, waiting for us to accuse her and say that we didn't believe her, or to brush it off and insist it was her imagination, or that she was merely seeking attention. She had been trained to assume all authority figures or adults existed to keep her in her pit, and when we didn't, a little bit of life returned to her eyes.
The life in her eyes grew and grew, lighting up her features. A fire was smoldering inside of her, and as she desperately told her story, it burned brighter and brighter. Even as she was reduced to tears of relief, it shone through.
It was hope. Hope that this was finally it. That we would finally do something. That someone had seen her pit and was determined to get her out. As she held on to her father, both of them crying, both of them apologizing to each other, Detective Sheryl and I stepped out of the conference room to give them some time.
"So. Who do you think should I call?" I asked as the detective used an absolutely archaic coffee machine to make herself a drink. I desperately wanted one as well, but I couldn't drink with my mask on.
"Who could you call?"
"I could call Assault or Miss Militia directly, or I could ask one of them for a number for a more specific person… Or I could just call Director Piggot."
"Why do you have the Directors number?" The older woman started, only to shake her head and wave the question away. "Doesn't matter. Call Director Piggot."
"You want to go straight to the top?" I asked.
"This would all get to her hand eventually. It's too big of a deal not to." She explained. "At a minimum, this is someone using PRT resources to cover up a crime. Trust me, I've met her too. She would just resent the wasted effort."
"Fine, I'll contact the Director. What happens after that? We go into the PRT?" I asked. "Should I be there? Or should I-"
"You should absolutely be there," The woman said, spinning around to focus on me with a glare. "You ain't looking to pass that poor girl along, are you?"
I met her gaze rather easily, staring straight back at her.
"I'm going to let that accusation slide because, after everything that's happened, you have the right to be paranoid, Detective Sheryl," I said, shaking my head, my mask hiding my scowl. "But please refrain from assuming the worst of me, especially when I haven't done anything to deserve it."
She let out a long breath, running her hand through her white hair, but eventually nodding in understanding.
"I was asking if I should come because I wanted to make sure I didn't make the situation harder than it needed to be," I explained.
"Fine, fair," She said, taking a big sip of her coffee. "You should come with us because it gives us legitimacy. If it's just us… I'm worried they might brush it under the rug."
I frowned, chewing the inside of my cheek as I considered her words. My first few interactions with the PRT and the Protectorate had been… less than optimal. While things had settled down a bit, I couldn't deny that an attempt to sweep everything away before it could do any damage to their rep didn't feel very far-fetched. I didn't think they would do anything too crazy, but then again, anything but the truth was unacceptable.
"Then I'll be there," I said with a nod.
We waited another fifteen minutes before Danny eventually stepped out of the room, motioning for us to come back in. Once we were settled, I floated the idea of going directly to Director Piggot.
"I've met her before," I assured them. "She… isn't the easiest person to get along with, but she takes her job seriously. If someone is messing around with PRT resources she will be on them like white on rice in a snowstorm."
We discussed our options for a bit before I finally pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number that Director Piggot had used to contact me to negotiate healing while Panacea was taking her break. It rang once before a voice I didn't recognize answered.
"Hello, Office of PRT Director Piggot, how may I help you?"
"Hello, my name is Arcanum, and I'm trying to reach Director Piggot," I explained, the voice giving a slight start. "I talked to her previously at this number."
"Of course, Arcanum. One moment while I contact the Director."
Before I could say anything, hold music started to play, and I couldn't help but groan. We waited patiently for five minutes before the phone clicked over again, this time to the no-nonsense voice of Director Piggot.
"Arcanum, it is good to hear from you," She said. "My secretary said you wished to speak to me?"
"Yeah, I did. I think I might have uncovered something nefarious going on in the PRT," I said, the line going silent for a good thirty seconds. "Hello?"
"I'm finding myself less glad to hear from you, Arcanum," She responded. "But yes, I am here, Arcanum, waiting for you to elaborate."
I quickly gave the stern woman the rundown of the situation, giving her the names Taylor had told us, the circumstances, and other details we thought might be important. The entire time, Director Piggot was silent. When I was done, it took a full thirty seconds for her to finally respond.
"Arcanum, thank you for bringing this to my attention," she said, her voice tight, like she was barely holding her anger and frustration at bay. "You mentioned that Danny Hebert is with you. Could you hand him your phone?"
"Sure thing, here he is."
I said, pulling my phone away from my ear and holding it out to Taylor's father. For a moment, he looked at it, making no move to take it. Then, he seemed to settle up, reaching out and grabbing it.
We watched the one-sided conversation, which eventually ended with Danny passing me back my phone. The Director thanked me again before asking me to come in the following day so I could sit in with Danny and Taylor in some sort of meeting. I agreed but stopped her before she could end the conversation.
"Director Piggot, I don't want to end with anything as crude as a threat or ultimatum," I admitted, letting out a long breath. "But you need to understand that I will not be letting this go until Taylor and her Father are satisfied with the information and recompense. Please don't make me prove how far I am willing to go."
"We will see, Arcanum," She responded calmly. "I will see you tomorrow."
I folded my phone closed as the call end beep sounded, sliding it back into my pocket and leaning back in my chair.
"What did she say?" Detective Sheryl asked, leaning on the conference room table.
"She wanted time to investigate what we told her," Danny responded. "She seemed genuinely angry at the possibility and… I also got the feeling that she knew something. Like after a point, she wasn't surprised. She agreed to a meeting tomorrow afternoon, at four PM."
"She wanted me there as well," I added.
"...Did I do the right thing?" Danny asked after a long moment, looking at his daughter, who at this point looked tired and drained but… still somehow better than when I first met her. "My gut was telling me she was telling the truth, that they did just want to investigate, but what if they just wanted time to wipe everything clean?"
"Then they are going to have a bad time when I go to the press, explaining what I heard and what she said to me," I explained with a shrug. "Maybe the next Director will have some basic human decency. But I don't think that will be a problem. Director Piggot may be… shrewd, but she didn't come off as purposely corrupt or negligent."
"And I'm sure if she does try something, a mysterious copy of my report and investigation could show up on someone's doorstep, someone who could use it to show at the PRT did, in fact, take over the investigation," Detective Sheryl. "There are options."
"For now, I think it's time for you guys to get home. I think some quiet time and a nice meal will do both of you some good," I said with a smile, reaching out to pat Danny's shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you outside the PRT."
Danny nodded, looking down at his daughter, who also nodded in agreement. Detective Sheryl escorted the two of them from the building while I snuck out the back, making my way to the Docks community to pick up Troy. While I was there, I spent some time checking in on everyone, helping out around the place, and making sure the orchard was stable and charged.
I was making my way across the city, doing a half-assed patrol on my way to the forest and home, when Alya pulled in close.
"I was thinking about something," She said, her tone hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she should be telling me something.
"At least one of us was," I commented, shaking my head a moment later. "Sorry, I'm still in a funk from listening to Taylor. What is it?"
"It's about her, or, at least, something she said," She admitted, pausing for a second before continuing. "She explained that her more physical tormentor has been absent from school for some time now. Danny also commented that Director Piggot wasn't surprised by some of what she was hearing. Like she had expected more bad news."
"I don't think he worded it that way, but sure."
"William, what happened a few weeks ago?" She asked. "Having to do with an overly physically aggressive minor and the PRT?"
"Overly aggressive… Wait, Shadow Stalker?" I asked, my mind reeling a bit from the connection. "That's a hell of a stretch…"
I considered the idea, turning it over in my head a bit. There was no doubt that what little facts we had did fit, but only because we had so few. After all, the fewer points plotted, the easier it was to place them on a common plane. The chances of those particular coincidences lining up were beyond small… but damn if they didn't fit.
"I can see why you drew that conclusion, but I doubt it's actually true," I pointed out. "And even if it is, we can't do anything about it. There are some pretty serious restrictions and laws about Wards, specifically about their identities. Either way, we can't use it to our advantage."
"Maybe, but it doesn't answer a few questions," she pointed out.
"Yeah, and raise a dozen more," I added with a snort, guiding Troy through a shortcut through an alleyway. "Like I don't have enough already."
Despite having saved Taylor from being chased and having spent so much time with her afterward, my reward for the quest had not come through. Instead, it just hung there, open, like it was waiting for me to complete every aspect of it before deciding what it was worth.
I could only hope I would gain some understanding of how it worked when it finally made up its mind.
Perhaps, but I think it answers the relevant ones.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Based on what he said next, I'm pretty sure the "n't" isn't supposed to be there.
I've had these phone calls. Rarely fun for anyone.
Still, there's a chance this is a thread she can pull on to find Coil (though I doubt this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back).